Hull Canal, Baja California Sur, Mexico
Red and pink were the colours of the day, both proceeded by mucha niebla - a heavy gray fog that enveloped us as the MV Sea Lion sat at anchor near Boca de Soledad. The prevailing westerly winds had calmed overnight, resulting in heavy condensation as moist Pacific air met the cold water of the California Current. This portion of the north Pacific Ocean gyre courses southward along the Baja California coast from its origin in the sub-arctic waters of Alaska. Morning fogs are common. They contribute significantly to the small amount of fresh water that settles onto the vast sand dunes and xeric plants of Isla Magdalena.
We were all seeking a close experience with California gray whales today. Many of these long-distant migrants are still here after giving birth to their robust, 2,000-pound calves. Those of us up early set off in Zodiacs into the morning mist. Our Captain monitored the progress of the tiny boats on the ship's radar, and radioed positions and directions so that the concentration of whales, which we anticipated to be near the mouth of Hull Canal - Boca de Soledad - could be intercepted.
An aura of promising light glowed over the low mist that hugged the water, and a rather grayish day soon became stunning. The sun burst through, unveiling the clear skies and pleasant temperatures we had now come to expect. The coastal desert was at its finest, and in the water were the whales. Muchas ballenas! Once heavily hunted, the gray whale has now rebounded from the brink of extinction, possibly back to pre-whaling numbers. Some individuals now show little fear and even genuine interest in our rubber boats. Or could it be that they are actually interested in the occupants of those boats? We may never know.
Regardless, our morning encounters with these huge creatures were nothing less than spectacular. This year's calves are significantly larger now than at birth. They are gaining as much as 50 pounds per day as they nurse vigorously on huge volumes of mother's fatty milk. Their insulating blanket of blubber must thicken and their muscles must build if they are to survive the perils of a long journey to western and northern Alaska. For the calves that were born as early as December and January, this daunting trek could begin any day now.
On nearby Isla Magdalena, a sunrise birding walk also began in the mist. Double-crested Cormorants perched like ghosts at their mangrove nest sites; soaring frigatebirds glided over in eerie silence; diminutive Least Sandpipers fed like sewing machines along the sandy edge of a tidal pond. When the fog burned off, the low angle of the sun produced exceptional photo opportunities. The Reddish Egret pictured here was feeding in its usual flamboyant way - rushing in circles and flapping its broad wings as if in a drunken stupor. It does this to flush out small fish for its morning meal. Like other members of the heron family, this egret was once hunted for its elegant feathers. Fortunately, fashions have changed; the millenary trade no longer demands the feathers of our wild birds.
All of the birds in the world could not draw us away from the whales, however. The underwater "bedroom" activities of marine mammals invariably raise endless questions for the naturalists on board. Quite understandably! From our world we can see and hear so little of the whales' world, and sex is always a hot topic. At this season here in Baja California any extended period of rambunctious surface activity - splashing, rolling, lunging, flailing flukes and heavy breathing - usually means that pheromones are wafting and sex hormones are flowing, especially when 3 or 4 whales are engaged in the foray, as they were here (pictured above). The bodies of whales are streamlined for efficient movement through dense water. Appendages that normally protrude on land mammals are tucked in and internal on whales, adding to their sleek, hydrodynamic shape. But when sex is involved, anything can be expected, and at least one protrusion must occur. As we watched the roiling game, the object we all now know as "Pink Floyd" suddenly broached the surface. Somewhat like a 6-foot prehensile periscope, it was searching for the object of its affection.
Red and pink were the colours of the day, both proceeded by mucha niebla - a heavy gray fog that enveloped us as the MV Sea Lion sat at anchor near Boca de Soledad. The prevailing westerly winds had calmed overnight, resulting in heavy condensation as moist Pacific air met the cold water of the California Current. This portion of the north Pacific Ocean gyre courses southward along the Baja California coast from its origin in the sub-arctic waters of Alaska. Morning fogs are common. They contribute significantly to the small amount of fresh water that settles onto the vast sand dunes and xeric plants of Isla Magdalena.
We were all seeking a close experience with California gray whales today. Many of these long-distant migrants are still here after giving birth to their robust, 2,000-pound calves. Those of us up early set off in Zodiacs into the morning mist. Our Captain monitored the progress of the tiny boats on the ship's radar, and radioed positions and directions so that the concentration of whales, which we anticipated to be near the mouth of Hull Canal - Boca de Soledad - could be intercepted.
An aura of promising light glowed over the low mist that hugged the water, and a rather grayish day soon became stunning. The sun burst through, unveiling the clear skies and pleasant temperatures we had now come to expect. The coastal desert was at its finest, and in the water were the whales. Muchas ballenas! Once heavily hunted, the gray whale has now rebounded from the brink of extinction, possibly back to pre-whaling numbers. Some individuals now show little fear and even genuine interest in our rubber boats. Or could it be that they are actually interested in the occupants of those boats? We may never know.
Regardless, our morning encounters with these huge creatures were nothing less than spectacular. This year's calves are significantly larger now than at birth. They are gaining as much as 50 pounds per day as they nurse vigorously on huge volumes of mother's fatty milk. Their insulating blanket of blubber must thicken and their muscles must build if they are to survive the perils of a long journey to western and northern Alaska. For the calves that were born as early as December and January, this daunting trek could begin any day now.
On nearby Isla Magdalena, a sunrise birding walk also began in the mist. Double-crested Cormorants perched like ghosts at their mangrove nest sites; soaring frigatebirds glided over in eerie silence; diminutive Least Sandpipers fed like sewing machines along the sandy edge of a tidal pond. When the fog burned off, the low angle of the sun produced exceptional photo opportunities. The Reddish Egret pictured here was feeding in its usual flamboyant way - rushing in circles and flapping its broad wings as if in a drunken stupor. It does this to flush out small fish for its morning meal. Like other members of the heron family, this egret was once hunted for its elegant feathers. Fortunately, fashions have changed; the millenary trade no longer demands the feathers of our wild birds.
All of the birds in the world could not draw us away from the whales, however. The underwater "bedroom" activities of marine mammals invariably raise endless questions for the naturalists on board. Quite understandably! From our world we can see and hear so little of the whales' world, and sex is always a hot topic. At this season here in Baja California any extended period of rambunctious surface activity - splashing, rolling, lunging, flailing flukes and heavy breathing - usually means that pheromones are wafting and sex hormones are flowing, especially when 3 or 4 whales are engaged in the foray, as they were here (pictured above). The bodies of whales are streamlined for efficient movement through dense water. Appendages that normally protrude on land mammals are tucked in and internal on whales, adding to their sleek, hydrodynamic shape. But when sex is involved, anything can be expected, and at least one protrusion must occur. As we watched the roiling game, the object we all now know as "Pink Floyd" suddenly broached the surface. Somewhat like a 6-foot prehensile periscope, it was searching for the object of its affection.
